


Inspiration

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:07:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24488707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Short prompts/drabbles for the Inspiration Zone channel on the Tomione discord server.Prompts provided by fellow writers.Unbeta'ed and I choose not to add any warnings in there.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Kudos: 7
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is always the exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For nyxillunyx.

Blood started seeping from underneath the man's shirt. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut at the sight.

"He didn't deserve to—"

Tom locked her in an embrace from behind, tucking his chin over her shoulder.

"No one does, but they all do."

He went on, conversationally. "The bloke was quite good at chess. He loved milk with his Darjeeling—"

"They had a baby on the way!" she shrieked.

Hermione felt his hands descend towards her middle. "We're having a boy."

"Stop. Just— Tom, please."

"You're upset," he sighed. "I was just giving a eulogy befitting a traitor."

They stood over Percy's body until they were fully soaked from the rain. She imagined red turning pink, turning white again.

"But it's getting awfully late, darling. Let's head home, have a nice, hot shower. And maybe after that..."

He'd make it up to her in bed. He always did.

"...so. Shall we?"


	2. Artery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chance encounter at the pub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Nekositting.

He watches her from beneath his glasses, as she sits by the corner booth with an untouched order of fish and chips served an hour ago.

Five-foot-six, nine stone, in her late 20's, looking like a waif. Her legs constantly jiggle under the table.

 _Two minutes,_ he thinks, if he loses control.

Her wrists, preoccupied with doodling on paper napkins, are no thicker than a few inches. _Maybe seven._ Neck looks strong, revealing itself with every cursory glance past the pub window. _Four minutes, tops._

_Waiting for a lover, perhaps? Hopefully only in need of one._

Said waif turns her head—

He catches her eye—

a fleeting moment that makes him think she's not the right person for him, never was.

But when she cries, "Albus! Oh my god, you've grown so much!" lifting said kid with relative ease, the gesture exposing her creamy, lithe arms, he declares it as an affirmation.

Her body's positively begging for **it.**

It'll take twenty seconds if he were precise.

He'll find out soon enough.


	3. Disassociation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Typical night for Hermione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For BrightneeBee.

Her eyes fly wide open at the sound. Slowly adjusting to the dark, they roam around the bedroom, and she finds herself pleased to see nothing out of place.

It's just one of those nights for light sleepers.

Nights where she listens to muted squeaks of metal rubbing against metal repeatedly, with an urgency that makes the hairs on her nape stand on end. When she feels swirls of hot air all over flesh, goading her to bury her nails into anything within reach.

Copper dances around her tongue, and a hint of something salty and thick. As hard planes fill the edges of her vision, while warm length thrusts and pulses into her aching, weeping wetness.

The figure stills. So does everything.

"Earth to Hermione."

"Hmm," she hears herself say, an echo from a great distance.

Soft skin warms her wet cheek. "That's my good girl."


	4. Bland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mutual interest between two future colleagues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For BrightneeBee.

"Tell me why we shouldn't hire you."

There it is. The trick question.

Working too hard, being too honest; desirable qualities, all in excess.

The interviewer's been nothing but sharp the whole time: he's expecting a real answer, perhaps something close.

And real is what he's going to get.

She hesitates for a beat and clicks her pen twice.

"I'm boring."

"Your qualifications state otherwise," he offers with a strange smile, or a mimicry of one.

Dr. Riddle sets her dossier flat on the table and tilts back. His gaze drags from chunky heels to skin-toned stockings, then all over her black skirt and white button-down Primark ensemble. It settles on her face, almost bare, sans mascara.

"Hair's got quite the character. But everything else..." 

_Drab. Unflattering._

"How do you like your coffee?"  
"Water is preferable."

"Eggs?"  
"Hard boiled... no salt."

His silent scoff at the revelation, wasn't quite silent.

"Ice cream?"  
"Vanilla. Can't go wrong with the classics."

Eyebrows shoot up. "It's my favourite."

"It's basic," she counters.

"Fair enough." A first time in an hour's worth of conversation — finally, he relents.

But just when she thinks it's over, she catches those two words, low and rich.

"And sex?"

Hermione feels her ears turning beet red. "I— I'm sorry. I think I misheard."

"Shagging," he repeats carefully while pinning her down with his stare. "How do you usually want it? Or rather, have it?"

How does she, truly?

_Frenzied. Suffocating. Borderline excruciating._

_The more it hurts, the better it gets. And if he draws her blood—_

"Miss Granger."

Her train of thought comes to a screeching halt. Scandalised, she spits out, "That's a dodgy question you should never ask in any capacity—"

"Vanilla it is, then?" It's nothing but a challenge, as he leans a little too close for comfort. She bites the inside of her cheek and chooses not to respond.

Tom Riddle takes silence as acquiescence. "Glad we're on the same page."


End file.
